


Thirty-Two

by notjustmom



Series: The Boys in Sussex [33]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Retirement, Sussex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-12 05:25:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12952275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: no plot here, whatsoever, just a quiet house and early morning explicitude...





	1. Chapter 1

The house was quiet. Even Sherlock was still tucked neatly around him, his breath gently blowing at his ear, and Gertrude was still curled up at his feet. Greg and Molly had gone on a mysterious errand and would be gone for a couple of days. He had never been good with silence, it gave him too much space to think about things; he was accustomed to chaos, he was trained to deal with trauma, disasters, battlefields of all kinds, but this morning's silence was a respite from the last couple of weeks. He took a deep breath and turned in Sherlock's arms, nuzzling his face into Sherlock's chest, taking him in, his scent was exquisite first thing in the morning; remnants of last night's lovemaking lingered, there was always a trace of something spicy about him, cinnamon - or nutmeg - he didn't know, perhaps it was something in his ridiculously expensive shampoo, a hint of smoke - he worked his way down until he felt Sherlock tremble against him, and place his hands in John's hair gently guiding him lower to where he needed him most.

John whispered as his fingers slid under his waistband of his well-worn pajamas, then came to rest on his hip, "I want to hear you this morning, love, no one is here... tell me, love..."

"John - I - please - just -"

John pushed the pajamas lower and placed his nose into Sherlock's dark curls, and felt him shiver. "Yes?"

"Please?"

John nodded and started slowly, teasing until he had Sherlock panting and squirming under his tongue and feather light touches, then finally took pity and took him into his mouth, inch by devastating inch until he felt him in his throat. He didn't know what it was about having this kind of power over the man who was babbling nonsense under him, the man who used to be in tight control of everything, was coming apart, shattering under his touch, fingers grasping at John's shoulders, hoarsely begging for more. Slowly, John pulled off with a quiet pop and gazed at Sherlock, his face was flushed, eyes tightly closed, his hands had dropped from John's shoulders to rest on his arms. "Just need to -"

"Hmmm -" Sherlock reached over to the bedside table, grabbed the lube, and placed it in John's waiting hand.

"Open your eyes, love, I want to see you." Sherlock opened his eyes slowly, and John drew in a sharp breath. "So beautiful, love. How - you -"

"John -"

John nodded and placed pillows under Sherlock's hips, then took his time, sweetly coaxing his love open, lightly kissing those places that he had learned sent sparks through the man who had his fingers tightly wrapped in his own hair, humming something under his breath, his eyes fluttering shut only to open wide when John added a second finger and then a third. "Please - John - " John grinned, then brushed a kiss on the inside of each knee and lined himself up, gazed into Sherlock's blown and needy eyes, then pushed in easily into the tight heat, swearing to himself as he felt Sherlock's body welcome him in. "Move, John - just -"

John bit his lip and pulled back just a bit, then pushed back in - his eyes taking in Sherlock's changing expressions, it was something he would never get used to - his love, his light against the dark, his home - he felt himself speed up, in time to Sherlock's breathing and he closed his eyes as he felt everything tighten up around him. "John - touch me - I need -" and he wrapped his trembling fingers around Sherlock's hard and weeping length, stroked him once, twice, three times then heard Sherlock call out his name as he came into John's hand, the look of bliss in Sherlock's eyes was all it took to send John tumbling after him, after the aftershocks settled, he pulled out slowly and collapsed next to Sherlock, who draped his spent body around John.

"Good morning to you too, John."

"Hmmmphhhh." 

They laid tangled together in silence for a moment, then John raised his hand to his nose and sighed. "You - god - just - I -can we stay here forever just like this?" Sherlock kissed his hair, then rested his forehead against his shoulder. 

"Let me get us cleaned up, and then we can stay here as long as you want, John. Hmm?" Sherlock got out of bed, then looked down at his husband who was already fast asleep, Sherlock's scent already invading his dreams. "I love you, so, my amazing man. So very much." He shook his head, went into their bathroom and returned with a warm, damp flannel, washed John carefully as he dozed, then threw the flannel on the table and pulled the blankets over both of them as he curled around John once more, closed his eyes and he too was lost to his dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a wee bit.

"So, how are the newlyweds?" John asked as he settled next to Z on the porch, he worried a bit as his uncle was looking somewhat older these days.

"Never seen Howard so happy - whistles everywhere - and Grace - now, Doc, you know I'm no longer a young chap - I'm allowed to show my age a bit."

John nodded. "I know - I just wish -"

"Don't you worry, John. When my time comes, it comes. I do have something to ask -"

John sat up and turned to look at him. "Anything."

"Will you and Sherlock - just make sure there's space in the graveyard near Em? I have a feeling -- I know - when one of us goes - well, you know."

John reached out for the older man's hands and held them gently. "Of course. We'll take care of everything, don't worry about it, yeah?"

Z searched his nephews eyes and nodded. "I don't - we don't intend to go anywhere for a bit yet, have to be around to see Mycroft and his Alicia get hitched and spoil Molly and Greg's wee lassie. Thank you, Doc. It's good that we can count on the two of you, our kids are good people, but they - they had their own things to do, and you boys - I know you understand. All too well - you were asking after Grace - there she is; she comes over for elevenses every day now, helps out Glady - I think she's mostly after her recipes..."

"Cut it out, you!" Grace bent over and kissed her brother's cheek. "I got a letter from Harry, they are busy planning their trip." She sighed as she crossed over to her seat next to John. "I do wish I had spent some time traveling this time around, but maybe - where are Molly and Greg? I wanted to see if she needed help with things..."

"Off on a mysterious errand," John murmured as he saw Sherlock and Howard walking over, again, he was struck by the feeling in his chest every time he caught a glimpse of his husband, and then Sherlock turned his gaze on him and smiled that smile that made him know he was the very center of that extraordinary man's life. He had no more doubts, he hadn't for a while now, but, every minute they spent together seemed to be more than...

"Love?"

"Yeah?"

"Time for tea - are you alright?" Sherlock was sitting next to him, Z and Grace had already gone inside with Howard. John blinked at him and nodded. 

"I just -"

"Yeah, I know. I feel it, too, John. I think we are just more aware now, how much every minute matters." Sherlock picked up John's hand and kissed it lightly. "Every minute, John. I know. One day, I think we'll take it for granted again. But for now, I don't mind - I rather enjoy watching your eyes light up every time I walk into your line of sight. I don't mind at all."

"Good." John laughed and helped Sherlock to his feet and into the house for tea.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This bit was inspired by a suggestion/thought about the ending of TSoT, the idea that all Sherlock wanted from John's wedding was to dance, but instead realized he didn't belong and left early... thank you, conversationswithjohnlock, for permission to run with her idea.

He should have known, it was all wrong, the lilac, the yellow - Sydney opera house? How could he have let - he spun around the room, happy people dancing, twirling and spinning, in circles around him - there wasn't room for him, not in their new lives, not with a baby coming, not even room for him to dance, not a single person - even Janine - was dancing with the guy whose girlfriend had just dumped him, at a wedding reception - why do people even bother? John, his John, was off dancing with Mary - another Mary, John had no idea, still - at least this time he had been strong enough to let him go, even admitted he loved him, not that John had really heard him, in front of a room full of strangers, mostly, some were friends and family, but most - not even associates, he had classified them as 'others.'

At least the case had been solved to his satisfaction, and a murder had been prevented as well - John will have to at least acknowledge the case was - he'd be off on his 'sex holiday', especially with a baby coming soon - they'd want some time to themselves -Time to go, perhaps he'd see what Wiggins - "Who leaves a wedding early?" Mrs. H had said only this morning, before he had tossed her out of his flat, his, no longer theirs, hadn't been theirs for years now...

Sherlock tried to breathe, a gentle voice was calling out to him. "Sherlock? Love - open your eyes, it's John, I'm here, right here."

"John." He felt fingers in his hair, John's breath tickled his shoulder, his legs were slotted alongside his own. "Home? Sussex." He finally managed to breathe out in relief as he opened his eyes to see John smiling at him, that slightly worried smile, wondering where or when he'd been. 

"Home." John nodded, as he brushed a curl from his eyes. "It's three in the morning, you were humming that song, that song from the reception - and then you called out for me -"

"It's nothing -" Sherlock managed, though John's eyes saw everything, of course, why would he think -

John rolled up to sitting then touched Sherlock's face gently, and sighed. "This whole week - you've been - "

"Can we forget about it - Myc and Alicia's wedding is in less than ten days - Molly and Greg are getting nervous about Maddie - not sure how we will baby proof the house yet - how Gertrude will deal with having a baby in the house - The music for the first dance - I haven't got the composition right - I'm not sure if it's going to be enough for them, they probably should just have a posh do in a hotel in London, and invite the PM and a few of the lesser Royals, they are always happy to -"

"Breathe. I'm not going to forget about it. I just talked to Alicia yesterday, she had the posh party before, she told me how happy she was that she could actually enjoy the day this time - especially on Christmas, she loves Christmas. Your brother just wants to marry her, doesn't care where, just wants her to be happy. Molly and Greg are going through parents-to-be stuff, normal stuff, but we are going to be here to help them - Maddie isn't here yet, it will be months yet before she's even crawling, once she is here, and Gertrude will love Maddie, you know that. I've heard your waltz for them - its - oh - Sherlock -"

"John - I'm - it doesn't matter, it's just stress, like you said - don't give it anot-"

"You never got to dance at the wedding, the first one, or even at your own, at our wedding. I had forgotten - the first dance - our first dance - and you - love to dance. Sherlock - love."

"John - it's silly."

John shook his head. "After everything we've gone through to be together, Sherlock. I swear to you, you and I will dance on Christmas Day, even if we have to wait until we get to Paris to do it - I'm so sorry, love. How can I make it up to you?"

Sherlock gave him his best lopsided grin and pulled him back into his arms. "I have an idea or two."

John laughed as Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him and snogged him mercilessly. "I do - " John mumbled as his fingers got lost in Sherlock's curls. "I promise you - my love... we will dance." He laid his head over Sherlock's chest and fell asleep.

"I know, John," Sherlock closed his eyes and was soon dreaming of Paris, while wrapped up tightly in John's arms.


	4. Chapter 4

Molly placed a piece of toast and a mug of tea in front of John, then lowered herself into the chair next to him, and sat quietly as she sipped her tea.

He wrapped his hands around the mug in front of him and shook his head. "It's - not silly, but compared to the tragedies of the rest of the world - I don't know how to dance, not really."

She nodded and waited.

"And... Sherlock didn't dance at my wedding."

"I remember..."

"And - we didn't have a first dance at our wedding, he never said it was important to him, but I should have known -"

"John. You do recall you were barely going up and down the stairs on your own then - all that was important to him was that you were there, he didn't care about dancing or anything else. Just you."

"Last night - he had a nightmare when he was standing still in the middle of my reception, everyone else -"

Molly took a sip of tea, then put down her mug. 

"I promised him we would dance on Christmas Day."

"So ask him to teach you -"

"He has a lot on his plate right now -"

Molly raised an eyebrow at him and smiled gently at him. "John."

John finally grinned at her and shrugged. "He taught me, tried to teach me before, but it's been a long time since then, and -"

"You stepped on his toes?"

"I think he bought steel-tipped shoes after our first lesson," John muttered into his tea, then looked up to see Sherlock smiling softly at him from the doorway.

"My toes were bruised for weeks, if I recall correctly." He moved across the kitchen, then helped john to his feet and held him in his arms, sighing as he felt John lean into him. "Luckily for me, you have many other fine qualities, John Watson, that more than make up for your two left feet."

John shook his head and mumbled against him. "I want you to have everything you want, Sherlock. I -"

"I do, John. I already do. I thought you knew that already."

 

Mycroft threw the paper onto the table with a groan, then looked up to see Alicia gazing at him thoughtfully over her tea.

"What?"

"What would you want to do if you didn't do what you do?"

He wrinkled his nose and opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

"Your childhood dream was to be a bespoke government official?" Alicia teased gently.

"I wanted to be a dancer. Sherlock and I, our Nana, taught us, he was brilliant, of course, a natural, could have done it professionally, but he didn't love it, I - it was my passion, it was all I thought about - it was harder for me, but I worked at it, I took classes - all through school, I was good enough, Ali - but in the end, I had to make a choice, dance, or Oxford. I knew if I went to Oxford, my life would fall into a path that I wouldn't swerve from, the safer route. I never wanted, I know it may seem unlikely now, especially as you know my past, but I never wanted to be in a position of great responsibility. I thought, perhaps, this time, I could do something that I loved, for myself, I could be selfish this time. I could have, my parents encouraged me to dance, they said I could always go to Uni later, if I wanted to - I was offered a place - I was 18, Sherlock was 11, at that point, he still tolerated my company when we were at home for holidays together, and one night over dinner, he asked if I became a dancer would I leave home and see all the beautiful places in the world. I smiled and nodded, and said, "yes, I think so." His eyes brightened and he asked if he could go with me. And I realised then I couldn't leave him behind. Oxford was one thing, I could come home, be close by - and so -"

Alicia stood up and walked over to him, then draped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her chin into his shoulder. "I'm sure you were a beautiful dancer, love."

"I probably would have blown out a knee," Mycroft muttered as he leaned back and closed his eyes. "And I never would have met you, and that, my dear, would have been a bigger tragedy."

They sat in silence for a moment, then Alicia kissed his shoulder and asked quietly, "anything on the agenda this morning?"

Mycroft shook his head.

"Come back to bed?"

He nodded and she offered him her hand. "I can't wait to marry you."

To her surprise, tears sprang to her eyes at the softness in his voice. "I know, love. Just a few more days. Come back to bed, hmmm?"

 

"Will you, teach me?" John asked, as Sherlock washed his hair, later that evening.

"To dance?"

"Hmmm."

"Do you really want to learn, or is it just so you can dance with me?"

"Isn't that enough, that I want to be able to dance with you without maiming you?"

Sherlock laughed and wrapped his arms around him, then nodded. "Yes, John, I'd love to teach you. It would be my pleasure, just have to get out those steel-toed shoes, I think I kept them, just in case."

"Berk." John snorted, then he turned in his arms. "I do, mean what I said this morning, I want you to have everything you ever wanted, Sherlock."

"I know, John, I know. Let's get out of the tub, and -"

John kissed him lightly, then slipped out of the tub and met Sherlock's appreciative gaze. "Bed?"

"Please."

"That I can do, even with two left feet."

"I love you." Sherlock's voice dropped to a deep whisper, and John shivered, as he helped him from the tub. 

"Love you, too. Always, love."


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock sighed at the ceiling, then gazed down at John, who was sound asleep against him, his head on his shoulder, his hand, as always, rested on his chest, and he wondered not for the first time how it was possible to be this content, no, it was more than contentment, it was as if he finally felt whole, for the first time. When he told John that he had everything he had ever wanted, it wasn't a romantic notion, it was simply a statement of fact. He, they, had traveled so far, so long to get here, to this easy silence; so many near misses, too many words that he should have said, but was afraid, afraid that he wanted too much, and now - John shifted, moving closer to him, dragging his fingers lightly over his skin, sending a shiver through him, making his breath catch. He tried to stifle the burble of laughter that caught him by surprise, but failed.

"Hmmm?"

"Nothing, sorry." Sherlock kissed John's hair, hoping he'd go back to sleep it was still too early, but as John raised his head and blinked sleepily at him, he realized how much he'd missed him. "Ridiculous."

"What is?"

"I miss you when you're asleep."

John's face brightened, his eyes crinkled and he grinned. "I miss you when you are wide awake, just in the next room. I know you are there, I can hear you, but -" He trailed his fingers over his chest again, and Sherlock closed his eyes, then sighed as John brushed his lips lightly over his shoulder and down his arm, stopping at his wrist. "It doesn't matter how long we have together, it will never be enough." He picked up Sherlock's hand and laid it against his chest. "My heart belongs to you, love." Sherlock opened his eyes and tried to stop the tears from streaming down his face.

"I don't know why I'm crying, honestly, I think it's because I'm too full, is that a thing?"

John bit his lip as he wiped Sherlock's tears away, and nodded. "Also could be because you stayed awake all night, again?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes but shrugged. "I just - there are times when I'm afraid if I fall asleep, that when I wake up, you'll be gone. And I know, I know that you -"

John kissed his next words away, and they both let out a sigh as their foreheads met. "Just need the loo, and when I get back, you will sleep for me, yes?"

"Yes."

 

Sherlock opened his eyes to find John's arms around him. He could tell he was awake from his breathing, but he was simply holding him, not reading a book, or tapping away on his phone. Just holding him, he was just there.

"Morning."

"How long?"

"Not sure."

"Did you sleep?"

"No."

Sherlock sat up and met John's steady gaze. He had questions, why, how - but then understood, the answer would always be the same. He shook his head, then kissed him until he felt John's fingers thread into his hair, pulling him closer. 

"Because I promised. and I love you."

 

"Let's try without shoes."

"Brilliant idea." John smirked up at him, then laughed as Sherlock bent down to take off his shoes.

"Now. A lot of dancing with a partner is simple trust, trusting your partner won't turn you the wrong way, or trip you, or make you look ridiculous. Mostly, dancing is about listening to the music, and trust. I'm going to put on some music, and then I want you to close your eyes, so you can't see your feet, even if you look down. You can't hurt me, even if you step on my toes, which you will, at first, and it will be okay." Sherlock hit a key on his laptop and the music began softly.

 

"The first time ever I saw your face  
I thought the sun rose in your eyes  
And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave  
To the dark and the endless skies, my love  
To the dark and endless skies

"Close your eyes. Feel my hand on your back."

John nodded as he rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder, and felt himself moving without thinking.

The first time ever I kissed your mouth  
I felt the earth move in my hand  
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird  
That was there at my command my love..."*

 

Sherlock whispered lightly, at his ear, "You didn't need lessons, John, you just needed the right partner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Lyrics from 'The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,' written in 1957 by Ewan MacColl for Peggy Seeger, who later became his wife.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alicia has a surprise for Mycroft, and he revisits his first meeting with Lady Smallwood.

Meet me at home @ 7 sharp, dressed for dinner. - Ali

 

Mycroft looked at the message and lost his train of thought for a moment, then texted Anthea.

 

Need to leave by 6:30, sharp, please change my itinerary as needed and have the car ready. Please. - MH

Sir. - A

 

Anthea had wondered how Mycroft's new relationship, correction, only relationship would work once they became 'serious,' but she soon realized that Lady Smallwood had a way about her that was slowly thawing out the 'Iceman.' Not that anyone called him that to his face, that she knew of, anyway. She adjusted his schedule, smiling to herself as she knew he wouldn't mind missing a scheduled dinner with the PM.

 

Car will be ready as requested, Sir. - A

Thank you. - MH

Sir. - A

 

It was only four in the afternoon. Two and a half hours until he could head home. He closed his eyes and thought back, fifteen years now to the first day he had first encountered her. He knew she had been a good field agent in her late teens and twenties, only to retire early and marry, it had been a good match, or so everyone had believed, but he had what was called a 'wandering eye' and was one of the last victims of Magnussen's 'business deals'. Magnussen's 'career' had ended shortly after Sherlock had been shot, someone had broken into his office when he was working late and 'taken care' of him - he originally wondered if Lady Smallwood had been responsible, she had the necessary skill set, but so had Mary Watson - Morstan, whatever her name was. He still wasn't sure if anyone knew her 'real' name. He had spent personal time to determine that Lady Smallwood had been out of the country at the time. There was video footage of someone of her size and hair colour in Paris, but - Lestrade had investigated, but without Sherlock's assistance, any chance of solving the murder was slim to none, and he had closed it as unsolved, after a few months. Not that anyone had cared. The world was better off without him, Mycroft considered. He shook his head and focused on his memory of their first meeting.

She had barged into his office, her hair flying, face flushed, obviously angry about something. She was holding papers in her hand, then stopped short as he looked up from a phone call and stopped her forward progress with a look.

"Vladimir, I have an emergency, have a lovely dinner, yes, precisely." He remembered laughing that fake, stupid laugh he had for those he had to deal with on a regular basis, but had no real affection for, which he realised then was the majority of the people he dealt with. He had ended the call as she neatly seated herself and Anthea entered his office, a bit flustered and out of breath. 

"Sorry, Sir, she - I tried to stop her."

"Tea, Anthea, please?"

"Sir. Yes, Sir." She walked out silently and closed the door behind her.

"Now, Lady Smallwood, what can I do for you? It must be of some importance, for you to enter my office without, at the very least a phone call, or a previously scheduled meeting?"

"You have slashed the budget - I do apologise. I - I didn't realise -"

"What?"

"You are, you had been - sorry, they called you the 'Iceman' in the field, I had only seen blurry images of you - I do apologise for the intrusion. It is - I'm sure there are proper channels I could try, I -."

"Since you are here, would you like to have tea and tell me what the issue is?"

He watched her eyes flash at him then, and he knew he was lost. Fortunately he had years of training, both in the field and from dealing with the press and the PM for the last five years, so he knew how to control his features so no one could tell that he had feelings at all, let alone realise he had finally met his match. Her blue eyes had danced at him, and over tea, she had explained her problem, and within twenty minutes, he had solved it for her, an issue of miscommunication, he assured her, then saw her eyebrow raise slightly and he was on the phone to the number crunchers who thanked him for bringing the problem to their attention, and assured him it would not happen again. 

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes."

"Lady Smallwood."

And with that, she got up slowly from the chair and walked out of his office without a backward glance, and he knew, at that moment, that he was indeed an owner of a heart, or at the very least, he realised with a groan, all too human.

 

"Sir?" Anthea poked her head into his office.

"Anthea?"

"Car is ready and waiting, Sir. As requested."

"Yes. Thank you. I may be in late tomorrow." He grabbed his phone and keys, leaving his laptop behind, for once.

"Sir. If I may say?"

"Yes?"

"I am looking forward to your wedding, I've heard the farm is lovely. I appreciate the invitation."

"You are welcome, Anthea. It is a beautiful place, and I know Lady Smallwood is happy you can make it, as am I. It is to be just a small gathering of family and friends, and you are - most certainly counted as a friend of ours."

"Sir. Have a good evening." She nodded to him and vanished from view, and he wondered if she knew what Alicia had planned for him. He sighed and went out his private entrance to the car that was waiting to take him back home.

 

He unlocked the door to the flat and drew in his breath. She had cooked, having been raised nearly single-handedly by her French Nana, she had at last count ten cookbooks, all in French. He was tempted to check on what she was doing, but knew better than to bother her while she was cooking. Instead, he walked into their bedroom, and finding his most formal suit waiting for him on their bed shook his head, but undressed, quickly showered, then dressed once again and went into their dining room.

She was waiting for him, dressed in the deep green that did something to her eyes, that made him know that she was only thinking of him. To have that light focused so tightly on him, after being alone for so long -

"You look lovely, Myc. Dinner will be ready in a little while. You might be wondering why I asked you here tonight."

Mycroft nodded, unable to construct a single coherent sentence.

"May I have this dance, love?"

"Wh -"

She nodded to the shadows and a woman stepped out, and began to play her violin, it was a song he knew, somehow, perhaps from a movie, one his parents loved? And then it came to him, as he took her in his arms.

 

"When I fall in love it will be forever  
Or I'll never fall in love  
In a restless world like this is  
Love is ended before it's begun  
And too many moonlight kisses  
Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun..."

Alicia smiled as he sang to her, and looked as if she wanted to ask him a question.

When I give my heart it will be completely  
Or I'll never give my heart  
And the moment I can feel  
That you feel that way too  
Is when I fall in love with you..." *

 

"You are the first and only, love. I've never danced with anyone like this - only you, Ali."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"When I Fall In Love", written by Edward Heyman and Victor Young


End file.
